Silence is Key
by Danzinora Switch
Summary: For two months McCoy was in the hands of the Romulans. Two months, and they just got him back. What happened? McCoy isn't saying; in fact, he's not saying anything at all... Angst!fic request from jdpenny121. Warning for mild torture. COMPLETE
1. The Memory

**A/N: Okay, Angst!fic ! Requested by jdpenny121, this is an angsty story of (so far) undetermined length. General whumpage and H/C will abound if all goes well. Ah, some parts later on may be a tad trigger-worthy, so this your warning: if torture or the idea of torture disturbs you, do not read this tale. There won't be over-the-top torture, but it will still be there. This chapter was going to be longer, but I've saved the second half for chapter 2. Review, and you will be able to read the next chapter without waiting too long. Thank you!**

* * *

Memory was a funny thing, Kirk mused. He lay on his back on his bed, fingers laced across his chest and one knee drawn up. His eyes tracked the grooves on the ceiling, tracing the same pattern over and over again. The shift had ended an hour ago, and Kirk had gone to bed early.

But like every night for the past two months, he stayed up late in his quarters, turning memory over in his head.

For instance, happy memories: brief, fleeting, but sharp within the moment. They faded quickly over time. Kirk wondered if this recall failure was why Man kept pursuing happiness: he always forgot about it.

Frightening moments: crisp and clear when happening, but one could only remember flashes afterward. Maybe that was why Kirk could never figure out how he got so banged up in a fight: he couldn't remember what exactly happened.

Selective as memory was, it seemed that the only details that remained as fresh as ever were those attached to tragedies. Sad moments, disasters, and even cases of guilt stuck firmly in the mind, refusing to leave. Kirk had seen many tragedies over the years. Some ached more than others. But the worst memory he had now by far consisted of just three, little words.

He wasn't the only one affected by those words. But he was definitely the most disturbed by them. He was responsible, he was addressed, and he was the one who gave the damned order.

It was all his fault.

The rest of the bridge had tried to convince him that, when one looked at the entire situation, it could be traced back to Starfleet. Spock had even showed up one night with practically a flow chart analyzing every aspect of those circumstances which logically proved that Kirk made the best call in every case and that if anyone was at fault it was Starfleet for sending them on that mission in the first place.

Didn't stop him from blaming himself.

Eventually the bridge crew learned to just let him be.

And every night, Kirk went to bed early and remembered, turning the memory over and over in his mind, trying to figure out how things could have gone differently, what he could have done.

The mission was doomed from the start. From the moment Starfleet gave them their orders everyone knew it was a bad idea. The cloaking device they had retrieved from the Romulans had only barely worked- it failed completely once they were back in Federation space. The scientists of Starfleet and the Federation had eagerly accepted it, studying its operations and configuring it for starships.

Now, they had a prototype.

And who better to field test it than the ship that first stole it?

They had all been assured that the new cloaking device worked. It passed every laboratory test and trial run thrown at it. All it needed, before being issued as standard in the latest ships, was field test miming a combative/stealth approach.

Namely, it needed to be used exactly how one would use it in a real-life situation.

Like when up against an enemy.

It was entering the lions' den in nothing more than a lion costume, Kirk had thought, and he told them so. The scientists and admirals refused to hear his reservations, still telling him to carry on with the mission. Fly into the Neutral Zone, activate the cloaking device, and fly into Romulan space undetected. After zipping around for a while, return to Federation space with a report on the cloaking device's performance.

It was a complete disaster.

They weren't supposed to encounter _any_ Romulan ships, much less a full patrol. And the cloaking device wasn't supposed to fail, despite Scotty's valiant attempts at resurrecting life into the thing.

Long story short (because memory only recalled flashes during intense, frightening moments) Kirk found himself running through a Romulan Bird-of-Prey, phaser in hand, uniform torn and his shoulder bleeding. The warriors on the ship were chasing him, a fact he was keenly aware of every time a disruptor hit the bulkhead nearest to him.

Pelting through the dimly lit corridors, he would see glimpses outside, into space. His heart lurched every time. His beautiful, silver lady was spinning, bleeding from her hull, fires burning near her engines, and firing desperately against her attackers. The complete silence that met Kirk's ears when a phaser shot ripped through her shields was an eerie, morbid contrast to the visual explosion.

And then Kirk was twisting through some pipes and diving behind a door to escape his attackers.

He opened his communicator, sensing that now may be the last opportunity he had for privacy before the Romulans zeroed in on his position. "_Enterprise_, come in!"

"Enterprise _here, Spock speaking._"

Kirk breathed a sigh of relief. At least Spock had made it back onboard. A half-crazed smile twitched at his face at the hilarious realization that Spock was the only person who could be in command of a dying ship in battle and still sound so monotonous and professional.

"Beam me aboard, quickly!"

"_Acknowledged_." Kirk could feel the tingle of the transporter beam before Spock even finished speaking. They must have tied in the communicators to the transporter room.

As Kirk vanished, he saw that the Romulans had finally found his position.

He stumbled on the transporter pad when he rematerialized. An ensign manned the transporter, dividing his attention between Kirk and someone on the floor. The ship rocked horrendously, sending both men into the nearest wall.

"Ensign! Report! Who's back on board?" Kirk demanded, shouting over the noise of his groaning ship.

"I don't know sir!" the man yelled back. He pointed, and Kirk realized that the body on the floor was Lt. Kyle. "The last explosion sent him into the bulkhead and knocked him out when I came in. I know I've beamed aboard you and Lt. Adams, but I don't know who all he got."

Kirk smacked the bulkhead was his fist. "Very well. Stay at the transporter in case we need to get more people outta there!" he shouted as he ran out.

The halls were chaotic as repair crews ran everywhere, desperately trying to fix what they could. Kirk surged his way to the bridge in record time, storming out of the turbolift onto the scene.

The bridge was a clatter of noise and frantic measures. Uhura was multitasking like never before, relaying emergency calls, assessing damage reports and still monitoring the Romulan channels to try and crack the code. Sulu and Chekov moved as one, doing what they could with the damaged ship to avoid getting shot at and still hitting their attackers. It wasn't much, Kirk could tell they just lost some sort of power by the lights flickering ominously overhead.

As if sensing his presence, Spock vacated the captain's chair and simultaneously appeared at his own station. "Two warbirds coming from starboard," he reported gravely, towards Sulu and Chekov. "Upwards evasive recommended."

The deck tilted as they complied, and the ship groaned as she moved. "Engineering! What've we got?" Kirk piped down from his chair, desperately trying to get a hold on the situation.

"_We've lost shields 2, 4, an' 5_," Scotty reported. He sounded rushed and, something Kirk had never heard from him before, panicked. "_The cloaking device is absolutely fried… navigation… severely diminished… can't…_" the static increased and the channel died.

"Scotty!" Kirk whirled. "Lt.! Get back Engineering!"

"I'm trying sir!" Uhura cried. "Circuit short outs are racing across the board!"

"Fix them!" Kirk roared. Something collided with the belly of the ship and they rolled, spinning over onto their back. Kirk experienced a peculiar sense of vertigo as he looked at the upside-down warships on the screen while standing upright. The benefits of artificial gravity.

"Who do we have back on board?" he demanded, asking Uhura, Spock… whoever heard him. "I haven't heard from Riley, McCoy, Garrick or Barrows!"

"I think Riley's back!" Sulu shouted over his shoulder. "I thought I saw him- or was that before you guys left?" Another explosion, this time from port.

"NOT helping, Lieutenant!" Kirk shouted.

"There was considerable transporter usage," Uhura managed to report, one hand still deftly flying over her controls. "Unknown who's come and gone!"

"Captain," Spock's urgent voice carried across the hectic bridge. "Shields and sections of the primary hull have reached the breaking point. Two more direct hits and we will not survive the resulting breach."

Kirk's gaze snapped to the battlefield before him. There was only the Bird-of-Prey in view right now, lurking ominously towards him.

No way to tell if anyone was still on it.

There was another blast to the ship and lights died, emergency power spluttering on to bring them back to life. The odds were awful.

"Only one more hit before the ship dies," Spock reported.

"Scotty! Do you have warp power?"

"_Aye, sair, barely!_"

"Stand by!" Kirk still gazed out at that Bird-of-Prey, trying to divine if it held anyone else inside. Spock was also scanning it, but bio-sensors were slow…

"Their phasers are powering up, Captain."

Chekov had the course set in for a massive retreat, Sulu's hand hovering between the warp drive and the phaser button, for whatever Kirk may command.

"Power levels reaching their peak."

"Warp out!" Kirk shouted, part to Sulu, part to Scotty. Both men responded with professional ease and sheer desperation. It always took only seconds for Kirk's command to travel into execution.

And in those time-suspended seconds, three little words crackled through the bridge from Uhura's console.

"_Jim, beam me-"_

And they were at warp.

And the silence was white. It was so white and deafening that no beep came from any button, no klaxon blared its warning, and no chatter filtered through from Uhura's board. Nobody spoke, all frozen in their positions from warp, hardly daring to breathe as those last, three, little words drifted down and landed softly on the deck like embers from a fire.

Even when reality slammed back into everyone else and they clattered to make sure they were en route into Federation space and then inside Federation space, Kirk sat in his chair absolutely stunned. There was some kind of roaring in his ears, a buzzing sound, and those three words tumbled around endlessly in his brain.

For James T. Kirk, who came back for every last crewman, had just left his friend behind.


	2. The Rescue

**A/N: Wow, thanks for the reviews, guys! I was very proud of that first chapter :) I hope that this one still comes off alright. We're getting to the main story now. Thank you, and please review, folks! (Oh yeah, I don't own Star Trek).**

* * *

Kirk looked out across the bridge at the viewscreen. The stars passed by, some white, some blue, some red. Instead of promises of excitement and adventure, they now held cold comfort. Kirk knew his grim mood was spread across the bridge. Everyone was a little uneasy.

The patch-up and repairs had taken weeks. The reports and ranting had gone on even longer. The scientists were busy fussing over their cloaking device again, finding the disastrous flaw that made it fail right when they needed it most. Kirk tried not to think how it could have all been avoided simply by switching the placement of two wires. It made him sick.

When the ship settled back into order they had taken a census. Garrick, Barrows, and Riley were all on board, beamed back by Mr. Kyle, who was recovering from a severe concussion. Kirk couldn't visit him in Sickbay. He could barely stand to walk by Sickbay. Not when he knew its chief was missing.

McCoy shouldn't have even been _on_ the Bird-of-Prey. A staged medical call- nobody had actually been hurt, what happened was that the whole landing party escaped the brig and was on the loose. The Romulan officials were grasping at ways to lure their prey back- such as enticing them to come rescue a hostage. That backfired spectacularly- Kirk knew that McCoy had escaped as well. Now there were seven Starfleet members running around their ship.

Kirk still kicked himself and called him a fool to think that they had all beamed back without confirmation.

But he was grim today, and everyone else uneasy, as they rumbled on through space. Starfleet wasn't going after one lost doctor. They had precious little Romulan prisoners, and all were of high rank and importance. They were too valuable to exchange for a mere CMO. No exchange. No rescue. The _Enterprise_ was told to drop it and was assigned to more peaceful missions.

Like patrol.

_This is just a cruel joke_, Kirk thought. _A cruel, cruel joke_.

It was near the two-month anniversary of McCoy's capture, and here they were, brushing against the Neutral Zone, patrolling for any boarder-runners.

No rescue, Kirk.

_Waving the cake in front of the person on a diet_, he thought to himself. But Bones could be anywhere in Romulan space right now.

The bridge was quiet, running through routine measures and countermeasures. Romulans would get antsy anytime any Federation ship was this close to the Neutral Zone. But Kirk had his reasons. Long-range sensors could extend to just beyond the far edge of the empty space.

Just inside the Romulan border.

Probably useless. But it was a small consolation to Kirk.

"First sweep complete, Captain," Sulu reported. They altered course slightly, and began back down the stretch.

Kirk drummed his fingers on his chair, many thoughts crowding his head. Romulan space. So tempting…

"Captain."

Kirk turned, pulled out of his thoughts. Spock had spoken very quietly, and he seemed engrossed in his scanner. Kirk sensed the need for privacy. He got up and casually walked over to his station.

"What is it?" he asked in a low murmur.

"Sensors detect a Romulan warbird at their edge of the Neutral Zone," Spock said, just as quietly. "Flying ahead and parallel to us."

Kirk raised his head and met Spock's gaze, understanding the silent suggestion. The weight on his shoulders suddenly felt heavier, pressing him down into the deck. "Do you have any more data?" he barely breathed.

Spock subtly shook his head. "Not with the long-range sensors at this distance. I will need to get slightly closer."

Kirk nodded gravely. "Alright then, Mr. Spock. Whatever you need." He crossed back to his chair, danger and adrenaline pulsing through his veins.

"Mr. Sulu," he said softly. Everyone turned at the unusual tone of the command. "Mr. Spock has some interesting readings. Take us to 14 mark 2."

"That's… just inside the Neutral Zone, Captain," Sulu said cautiously.

"I know," Kirk answered quietly.

The bridge quickly caught on to what was happening. "Aye, Captain," Sulu nodded. He entered the commands and slowly steered the _Enterprise_ into the dreaded zone.

The tension mounted. Everyone knew that this time Starfleet wasn't behind the orders. They were acting on their own.

Spock turned on various other sensors as Sulu kept the ship out of range from the Romulan sensors, but close enough for Spock. He methodically began scanning the ship. Kirk stayed rigid in his chair, hardly moving.

Spock called him again. "Captain."

Kirk walked to him and they faced the console and readouts, their backs to the bridge. Kirk's back chilled as Spock relayed his findings.

"There is one human life form on that ship."

Kirk stilled at those words. "One human?" he repeated.

Spock nodded. "In a beam-shielded zone."

Kirk faced the viewscreen, the gears turning in his mind. "Plot an interception course," he ordered.

"Jim," Spock said quietly.

"Sneak up on them. I want Lt. Adams to meet me in the transporter room."

"Jim," Spock called again. "It may not be him."

Kirk turned around and for the first time since this whole ordeal Spock saw the anguish in his eyes. "It's a human, Spock. Regardless of who it is they're probably a member of the Federation. And… I have to try." The last part came out pleading.

Spock nodded sagely. "Of course."

"I want you to stall for me. Set up an agreement with simultaneous beaming. Select who goes over. But while that's taking place, I want Lt. Adams and myself beamed as close to the human as possible."

"Understood," Spock said crisply.

"Good." Kirk looked up and saw the Romulan warbird grow larger on the screen. It was a completely different ship…

He had to try. To know.

"I'll get off the bridge so they won't ask questions," Kirk said. "And be at Transporter Room 2." He nodded sharply to Spock. "Good luck."

Kirk exited and Spock took the center stage. He counted down the time it would take Kirk to reach that transporter room. When he was certain the captain was there, he began.

"Lieutenant, hail the ship."

"Aye, sir."

The screen wavered and the starry blackness was replaced with a Romulan bridge. The captain on screen chuckled at them.

"Hello, _Enterprise_, so we meet again!" he greeted venomously.

"We are unknown to your ship," Spock replied. "And I do not recall meeting you."

"Really?" the captain _tsked_. "Granted, it's been a while, and I have my own ship now, but I remember the last you," his lips curled. "Violated our space. Like now."

"We come to discuss something with you," Spock answered smoothly.

"Where's your captain?" the Romulan asked, eyes searching the bridge.

"He is no longer the captain. I am," Spock declared. The bridge crew did not outwardly react to this. Inside, they knew it was confirmed that Vulcans (or at least Spock) _did_ lie.

The Romulan narrowed his eyes. "Good. He deserved to be removed after such a blatant violation of the rules," he carried on, though suspiciously. "What is it you wanted to discuss that couldn't go through proper channels?"

"I prefer insurance," Spock evaded. "We will only speak with you provided a simultaneous beaming occurs."

"I see. Two for two? Very well, you've caught my interest." The Romulan seemed to be enjoying this… why? "We will beam when you are ready."

* * *

Down in the second transporter room, Kirk and Adams were ready. Kirk knew that getting back may be a problem, he could only hope that Scotty could beam them, the two 'exchange persons', and the retrieved human back all at once. And somehow return the Romulans. They didn't need a larger bounty on their heads.

"Here we go," Scotty warned, operating their transporter. Kirk and the lieutenant braced themselves.

The _Enterprise_ faded…

… and the Romulan corridor appeared.

"Move," Kirk husked, running over to a door. They seemed to be in a brig section of the ship, though unusually there was a legitimate door installed at this cell, and not just a force field. He tried the door. It was locked. There was a keypad by the door, but they had no way of knowing the code.

"We're going to have to blow it," Kirk decided swiftly, still checking every direction of the hallway. "Stay out here and cover for me!"

"Yes sir!" Adams replied. He had his phaser ready.

Kirk pointed and fired at the keypad. It erupted in a shower of sparks and fired circuits. Before the smoke even cleared Kirk was yanking open the door and lunging inside.

It was completely dark. The only light poured in from the hallway through the broken door, splitting the darkness like a ribbon as it curved up the far wall.

And up against that far wall was somebody.

Through the blur of movement and dark contrast it should've taken Kirk longer to figure out who it was. But he knew instantly.

"Oh, God, Bones," he choked, rushing over, meeting the startled blue eyes. Something red blinked next to McCoy's head and Kirk wrenched the device off, throwing it behind him. McCoy still seemed startled and shocked, but was reacting slowly. From what Kirk could see he looked awful.

Kirk was wrenching away the manacles chaining McCoy's wrists to the wall. He worked quickly and madly, phasering the metal (careful not to hit Bones) and pulling it away, burning his hands but not caring. He got the second one free and McCoy pitched forward immediately, and was only saved from crumpling against the floor by Kirk catching him. He quickly found what the problem was- McCoy was also chained to the wall by his ankles.

Easing the alarmingly light body into what was hopefully a comfortable position, Kirk also phasered those manacles. He grabbed McCoy's arm and pulled it across his shoulders, standing up so that McCoy rose as well. Adams was calling urgently from the door, grabbing something off the floor. They had run out of time. They had to move out of the cell.

Kirk started moving, but McCoy's legs could barely work, if at all. He contemplated picking up the doctor, but the distance was short and so he half-dragged him out into the hall.

McCoy jerked away from the direct light, blinking furiously. He looked even worse outside. There were dark circles under his eyes, horrifically bloodshot irises, and his thin frame was already shaking from the exertion.

"Beam us out, lieutenant!" Kirk gasped desperately.

"_Enterprise, _now!" Adams commanded, and they started away just as some guards burst down their corridor.

They appeared on the transporter platform, along with the two officers who had beamed over as an exchange. The Romulans had been beamed back from the other transporter, and Kirk shouted to get them out of there. Scotty complied, yelling into the comm to get away. Kirk also thanked the engineer's foresight when he also called for a medical team.

Kirk sat McCoy down on the steps as he felt the engines thrum to life and pull the _Enterprise_ back. He rubbed the doctor's back, feeling the bony shoulder blades through the thin shirt. McCoy said nothing, closing his eyes and slumping against Kirk. Jim grew even more concerned. It seemed the tiniest activity exhausted his friend.

Dr. M'Benga and Nurse Chapel quickly burst on the scene, ready with a gurney and reeling at the sight of their former boss. Kirk surrendered McCoy to their care, helping the limp, ragdoll-like man onto the gurney.

"Captain?" Adams caught his attention, bringing him around. The young lieutenant held out a peculiar-looking device. It was metallic and wrapped around like a sideways headband. A circular groove on one side contained the blinking red light. Kirk realized that Adams had picked up what had been attached to McCoy's head.

"I'm… not sure what this is," Adams said. "But I thought it would be important, all things considered, so I took it…"

"You did fine, lieutenant," Kirk reassured him, his head spinning as his adrenaline rush faded. "I'll get it to Sickbay, as may help them find out what happened to Bones." He swallowed hard as he took the device.

"Thank you, Captain," Adams paused. "Will he be alright, sir?"

"I hope so," Kirk answered grimly. "I hope so."


	3. The Suspicion

**A/N: Hey, guys! Thank you millions for those awesome reviews! They warm my heart :) I was going to have this chapter ready for you earlier, but I've just started a job (yay!) and that took out several hours of my time yesterday. But here is the next installment! We're beginning to slide into the general set-up for most of the story. Reviews are always appreciated! Thank you!**

* * *

A day passed. Kirk found himself busy alternating between catching up on reports with Spock and visiting McCoy in Sickbay. M'Benga and the nurses had patched up what needed to be patched up, but were still heavily rotating on fixing what took longer to repair. Kirk didn't know all the details- they hadn't released the official medical report yet.

"You said the captain's name was Jencius?" Kirk repeated, rubbing his brow. He was tired and weary, and had been in his quarters ready to turn in.

"Yes," Spock replied. "He was distracted from our conversation by an alarm- presumably when you and Lt. Adams broke into the doctor's holding cell. He began acting suspicious for the first time in our entire encounter."

"That seems odd," Kirk contemplated. "Normally Romulans are suspicious of every encounter."

Spock nodded. "He seemed rather… arrogant. But, considering who was in his custody, it puts his position in a different light."

"Could probably use Bones against us," Kirk said bitterly. "Or use us to gloat against Bones."

Spock said nothing, sitting quietly for a minute before shifting subtly. "Captain, have you informed Starfleet of Dr. McCoy's return?"

"Not yet," Kirk replied. He tapped his PADD. "I have it all written up to send, but I'm waiting for his medical report to come in first."

An odd expression momentarily flitted across Spock's features, vanishing in the next instant. "Logical," he hedged. "Though, it is unusual for reports to take this long."

"Spock, they just got their boss back," Kirk countered, hand coming back to rub his brow. "In the worst possible way- on a gurney. Everyone's a little rattled and trying to heal him."

"I meant no disrespect towards the medical department," Spock amended smoothly. "But I am… unsettled by this."

Kirk raised his head to look at the Vulcan. Such an admission was astounding. "And just what part… 'unsettles' you?"

Spock pursed his lips. "The discussion with the Romulan captain," he began. "He never brought up the doctor, or even mentioned a human captive. He seemed pleased to meet the _Enterprise_, instead of angered. And then there is the condition in which we found Dr. McCoy. So I find the fact that it is taking longer than is usual for the medical department to complete a standard patient report 'unsettling'."

Kirk nodded, aware that for Spock this was close to the Vulcan equivalent of panicking. "I'll swing by Sickbay once we're done here, Spock. Maybe M'Benga or somebody will have an explanation."

"Very well, Captain."

* * *

True to his word, Kirk stopped by the medical center even as the hour grew late on the ship. He passed by no one, and made straight for the biobed McCoy lay on with an IV. He swallowed hard as he looked down at his ragged friend. The panel above the bed throbbed contentedly with life, but Kirk focused on the rise and fall of the chest. That was real. McCoy was really here.

"God, Bones," he murmured. "If only I'd…" he trailed off, unsure where to continue.

"He's not unconscious, you know."

Kirk whirled and saw M'Benga leaning on the doorway. "What?" he asked, startled.

The doctor quickly motioned for him to lower his voice, approaching Kirk. Jim dropped his volume. "What?" he whispered.

"He's just sleeping," M'Benga indicated the prone doctor.

"This whole time?" Kirk questioned.

The man nodded. Then he sighed and looked weary. "I want to tell you something."

They moved away from McCoy and stood by the doorway. "We're finished with the report, Captain," M'Benga started quietly. "I've sent it to your PADD just now, but I figure you would want to hear in person."

"What's wrong?" Kirk's chest tightened.

"Medically speaking, there wasn't a lot of physical damage. But there _were_ signs of it. It had been healed by someone else. We corrected a few mistakes there, nothing too serious. What we're combating now is a problem." The doctor paused to take a moment to collect himself. "Why is Leonard sleeping so hard? From what we can tell he's been subjected to intense sleep deprivation and systematic starvation."

Kirk felt something painful lurch in his heart. "That explains the IV," he murmured.

"We're trying to bring his health status back up. For now, I'm happy that he's resting. He certainly has a lot to catch up on." M'Benga chewed his lip, and pulled out the device Adams had picked up. "From what we can tell, this thing monitors brainwaves. Every time the wearer fell asleep, it would emit a loud noise to wake them up again."

Kirk nodded gravely, dying a little inside. "Thank you for informing me of this, Doctor," he said professionally. He turned to leave but was stopped by one last, hesitant call.

"Captain?"

"Yes?" He paused.

M'Benga still seemed uneasy, but pressed on anyway, with a firm voice. "Don't tell Starfleet about Leonard."

Kirk could not have been more surprised. "Why?" he asked, alert.

"He's…" M'Benga groped for the right phrase. "Something's wrong with him. I can't place it right now, at least, not until he wakes up. But Captain, you have to understand, we ran the tests and procedures before Leonard fell asleep. He was never unconscious or sedated. Meaning, he was awake and somewhat alert the whole time. And during all of that, he just sat there on the biobed and didn't say one word. He looked down at the ground and acquiesced to our administrations, but never spoke. Does that sound like the McCoy you know?"

It didn't. And it only made him more worried.

* * *

**_Two months ago…_**

McCoy sprinted through the Romulan ship, running for his life. He had his communicator in one hand, trying to get through to the _Enterprise_. Not that he could hold still long enough for them to beam him out just yet. His Romulan 'guards' were close on his tail.

Blasted Romulans. Blasted fake medical calls. Blasted Starfleet orders that didn't make any sense.

He had no idea where the others were. He encountered Jim, briefly, before they were forced to split off again. He hadn't seen anyone else since then.

Up ahead, he spied a narrow crook in the Romulan architecture. He could fit if he squeezed. Hurtling himself at it, he slammed through and was surprised to see that the tight space continued out into the open by an observation bay. Giving his chasers the slip, McCoy wedged out and snapped open his communicator, seeing the _Enterprise _out there in battle.

"Jim, beam me up!" he shouted frantically.

Only something happened while he was talking. The ship, which had just been there, was now gone, only leaving the tell-tale redshift of warp behind.

And him.

McCoy felt all the air leave him as his stomach clenched and chest tightened. Part of his mind was shocked silent, going numb. Another part in the back was howling and screaming, begging _no! Don't go, don't leave me here, come back!_ endlessly in his brain.

"Jim?"

There was commotion and McCoy dimly realized that the Romulans had found his position- he'd stayed still too long. He didn't move as they surrounded him, disruptors at the ready. They took his communicator and he gave no resistance, still trying to believe if he had been actually left behind.

They didn't march him away. Instead, they kept him guarded in the observation deck as the captain and a few others arrived.

"Ah, it's fitting that the doctor is the one left," the captain grinned wolfishly. He struck McCoy as more Klingon than Romulan- stockier build, uglier face. "Care to become our prisoner again?"

McCoy shrugged. "As long as it's for free."

The Romulan was not amused. "We do not like being taken for fools, Doctor," he said dangerously. "You will not escape us again."

McCoy's eyes flickered to the window as the Romulan chuckled. "Besides, it's not like you have anywhere to go."

"They'll be back," McCoy said firmly. "Once they notice I'm missing they'll come back to get me."

"In which case they'll be blasted out of the sky by the three ships here on patrol," the captain answered. "They're severely weakened. They won't be able to come back until their ship is repaired, and who knows how long that could take?" The Romulan leaned down into McCoy's face.

"Face it, Doctor. They've left you behind. And despite whatever James T. Kirk says, he won't be able to rescue you, not without putting over 400 lives at risk. He wouldn't do it for one person."

"You're wrong," McCoy answered back, though there was the tiniest of falters in his voice. "He leaves no one behind."

"Except you," the Captain said dryly.

McCoy felt a surge of anger. "Now, listen, dammit! If Jim Kirk had to leave then that was because staying would have brought death! But once they're repaired he'll be back, and Heaven help you when that happens," he finished with a growl.

The Romulan had been composed before him. Now, he suddenly sprang and backhanded McCoy viciously across the face. His head snapped back and as lights danced behind his eyes he remembered that Romulans, like Vulcans, were much stronger than humans.

The captain signaled for a Romulan to step closer. "Jencius. Take him to his cell. And start introducing him to what it's like for a human violating Romulan space."

Jencius nodded, a gleam in his eye. "Yes, Captain." He gave the customary salute.

The guards started dragging McCoy back down the corridor, deeper into the ship. He was shaking off the blow to the head, but found it was much harder to shake off the uncomfortable feeling that he was in for a rather _painful_ conversation with Jencius.


	4. The Acquiescence

**A/N: Hey, everybody! Thank you for those reviews! On a happy note, today, and this posting, marks one year that I've had my account on fanfiction! Yay! I'm glad I got to internet-meet all you lovely people! I hope this chapter delivers because I'm going out of town tomorrow for five days, so posting won't take place until I get back. Until then, enjoy this!**

* * *

McCoy slept for two more days. On the fourth day of his return, M'Benga was checking the monitors when he noticed a familiar pair of blue eyes watching him.

Relief flooded the doctor, and he put on a warm smile. "Good morning, Leonard," he greeted kindly. "Glad to see you back with us."

McCoy nodded, somehow more with his eyes than his head, and slowly raised himself up to a sitting position. The tug on his arm brought his attention to the IV, and he examined it as M'Benga adjusted the settings on the biobed to a comfortable incline for him.

"Is there anything I can get you right now?" M'Benga asked.

A wariness flickered in McCoy's eyes. Geoff picked up on it instantly and changed tactics. "I can quick order a chicken soup. I'll bet you're hungry."

The wariness quelled and McCoy nodded gratefully, a hesitant smile flickering over his features. Uneasy, but acting nonchalant, M'Benga left to go get the chicken soup.

McCoy ate eagerly, if slowly, for which M'Benga was grateful. It was a good sign that he was hungry but also knew enough to pace himself lest he get sick. When he finished, Geoff collected the bowl and spoon while checking the IV. McCoy relaxed against the biobed, looking around Sickbay, mildly alert.

And still didn't speak.

"Captain," M'Benga paged from the other room, setting down his dishes.

"_Kirk here. What is it?_"

"Leonard's awake." He could practically hear the smiles and sighs of relief from the bridge. "He's eaten some chicken soup and is resting. But if you want to see him…"

"_I'll be right down._" The channel clicked off and Geoff shook his head, smiling. He walked back into the ward to see McCoy standing up next to the biobed, fiddling with the IV, apparently trying to get it off.

"A doctor should know better than to suddenly pop up and try to remove a _much-needed_ IV," Geoff scolded, pulling his hands away.

McCoy grunted and gave him a half-glare that he was famous for. Geoff's hopes soared again. He appeared to be acting normally, aside from not talking. With the captain coming, maybe Kirk could get him to talk.

As if reading his mind, the doors swooshed open and Kirk strolled in eagerly, with, surprisingly, Spock right behind him. Geoff glanced at McCoy and saw his eyes light up.

"Bones!" Kirk greeted, moving over. He spread his arms and quickly engulfed the doctor in a tight hug. McCoy coughed slightly as the air left him and awkwardly managed to pat Kirk's back with the arm that wasn't attached to the IV. Kirk broke away, grinning, and McCoy regarded Spock who stayed a few steps back. He inclined his head in acknowledgement.

Spock's eyebrows shot up.

"Bones?" Kirk asked, more puzzled. McCoy turned to him, face open and eyebrows raised, listening, as if to say _yes?_

"Ah, Captain," M'Benga intervened. "May I speak with you for a moment? Mr. Spock, could you please stay with Leonard?"

"Certainly," Spock nodded.

Kirk and M'Benga exited and went into McCoy's office. "What's going on?" Kirk asked. "Is something wrong with his voice?"

"Kirk," M'Benga placated. "Preliminary scans didn't show anything, and so far as I can tell he's not in any pain. I'll definitely run some more tests centered in that area before he's released, but I doubt anything will turn up."

"Why?" Kirk pressed.

M'Benga hesitated. "It's… he's very aware of it."

"What, do you mean he's _choosing_ not to talk?"

"It's not that simple, but I think so," M'Benga answered. "I'd be careful when asking him questions; he becomes very guarded."

Kirk nodded slowly. "Alright," he exhaled. "But do you have any idea why he's doing this?"

M'Benga sighed. "Jim, he just got out of the custody of the Romulans. Aside from what physical injuries I've seen healed, who knows what's happened to him? Given more time I might be able to figure out what areas and topics are particularly taboo."

"Like questions," Kirk confirmed.

"Yes. We could just be in a readjustment period and he doesn't fully grasp that he's really here, now. Or it could be something more permanent." He shook his head. "It's going to take some time and discussion to figure it out."

"You've got him in counseling?"

"Standard procedure," M'Benga replied.

"But he doesn't talk."

"If you watch him closely, Captain," M'Benga hedged in quietly. "You'll see that he's found other ways to communicate."

* * *

Spock has always been a master of observation. He could recite every detail of every memory with precision simply because he noticed everything and remembered it. Often times while on the ship his skills for observation weren't needed, until they beamed down to a planet or other new or unknown location.

However, with McCoy, he found himself calling upon all his faculties for observation.

He's always been bad with what humans term 'small talk'. Spock preferred companionable silence. Normally, whenever he was with McCoy the doctor always tried to engage him in a conversation or debate. His penchant for chatter occasionally grated on Spock, to the point where he would request for silence.

Not so today.

The doctor sat perched on the biobed, tracking the room with eyes, and sometimes closing them and relaxing. The quiet was so incongruous with McCoy that for once Spock found himself wanting to say something.

He cleared his throat. "I trust you rested well, Doctor."

McCoy opened his eyes a fraction and nodded.

Spock was unsure where to continue. How did humans manage to keep up a conversation, much less for hours on end? Wouldn't they run out of things to talk about?

McCoy was looking at him fondly, and suddenly Spock realized that their roles had been reversed. Instead of McCoy talking and Spock listening, McCoy was listening to Spock talking.

Well, he should probably say something.

"Your presence has been missed, Doctor," Spock said smoothly. "Particularly in Sickbay. You were not replaced, Dr. M'Benga was given a temporary field promotion."

McCoy listened attentively, nodding his approval. Observing the doctor, Spock found that he could read quite a lot. The eyes moved back and forth and one finger hesitantly tapped, as if asking a question.

"The reason this promotion was temporary, Doctor," Spock replied. "Was that, despite your uncertain condition and despite Starfleet's insistence on leaving the matter alone, Jim was still determined that there would be some way to find you."

McCoy absorbed all of this, with a rather open expression. He inhaled and breathed out, nodding. He looked back up at Spock with a soft smile and a crinkle of his eyes. _Thank you._

"One does not thank logic," Spock answered.

McCoy waved him off with a dismissive snort and hopped off the biobed. He started finagling with the IV again, working to get it off.

"I am uncertain if you should be doing that, Doctor," Spock mentioned.

McCoy grumbled intelligibly and continued mucking with the IV. He finally got it off and crossed the room, freed from being attached to the biobed. Spock followed him to the synthesizer as McCoy keyed in some more food. Seconds later, a grilled cheese sandwich popped out on a plate with some sweet tea.

McCoy picked up the tray and faced Spock, both eyebrows raised and head slightly indicating the synthesizer. _Want something?_

"Negative, Doctor, I am fine at this time." Spock hesitated. "Did you not just eat chicken soup?"

McCoy narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously and nodded. _What about it?_

"I did not mean any sort of offense," Spock tried hesitantly. "I simply do not wish for you to make yourself ill."

He relaxed in understanding Spock's meaning, and gripped his tray stubbornly. Spock could practically hear _I'm hungry, dammit!_

"As you wish," he conceded. McCoy looked satisfied and sat down to eat. Spock joined him at the small desk and began to update the doctor on all of the ship's activities, running through what he missed as McCoy listened on.

* * *

**_Two months ago…_**

McCoy had to admit he was surprised when instead of being brought straight to an interrogation room he was brought to the Bird-of-Prey's version of Sickbay. It was much smaller and cramped, and the Romulan "doctor" did not seem any different from Jencius and his guards.

McCoy halted. "Why am I here?" he demanded, not moving any further.

He was nudged in the back by a disruptor. "Move."

"No! Not until someone explains what's going on!"

"If the doctor does not want to participate, then he can leave," the Romulan doctor said impassively.

McCoy twisted to face his captors. "There. Y'see?"

"However," the doctor continued. "That will make acquiring a healthy baseline for you very difficult. But no matter, even if I have no knowledge of human anatomy to repair I'm very good at guessing."

McCoy started feeling nauseous as those words settled in. "Wait," he said as the guards moved to take him away.

"You wish to stay?" the doctor posed.

"Yeah," he nodded. "Why not? A little's better than nothing." He swallowed his shakiness and walked over.

The Romulan doctor dismissed the guards and started scanning and poking him, taking blood samples and doing a full physical. "Interesting. You really do have red blood," he mused.

"And you have green, so it's a Merry Christmas all around," McCoy snapped. The Romulan gave him a cold look that McCoy just glared back at.

Then, strangely, the doctor sighed. "I hope you hang on to that stubbornness and gall. They go quickly, but you seem to have more than most."

"What do you mean?" McCoy asked.

"Come now, Doctor," the Romulan said seriously. "Why am I getting such an extensive baseline? You and I both know what's going to happen soon."

Yes. McCoy knew very well what fate awaited him. "Or I could cave and save us all a lot of trouble."

"You could." The Romulan looked at him. "But I can tell you're not the kind of person who does that." He set down his chart and extended a hand. "I'm Retril. I imagine we'll be seeing a lot of each other if Jencius has got you."

McCoy slowly shook his hand. "Leonard McCoy." He gave a resigned sigh. "Well, if you'll be patching me up each time I'm too close to death, there are a few other things you should be aware of…"

They moved on with some more forms, collaborating on which drugs to use and which to avoid. They talked extensively, both knowing that their next visit would not be under such pleasant conditions.


	5. The Speculation

**A/N: I have returned! Sorry, was in Kentucky most of last week and then I had to work and also catch up on my sleep. But I'm back writing and present you with this chapter! Cautionary warning for some mild torture, in case that stuff isn't for you, but it's at the end of the chapter, so you could just skip over it, if need be. :) Please review!**

* * *

He was not allowed back on duty yet. For the first couple days he was mobile he wandered the ship, going to every nook and cranny, trailing his hand across the wall. Scotty happily gave him a tour of Engineering, which McCoy appreciated, even if it was entirely unneeded.

But after he'd seen every inch of the _Enterprise_ again, he was promptly back in Sickbay, trying to work.

And the staff was politely having none of it.

"Out, mister," Chapel said firmly, grasping his arm and walking him out the doors. McCoy grumbled, twisting to look back in Sickbay even as he was marched away. "You're off for another two weeks. That means no working, no check-ups, no evals, and for Pete's sake no operating! The only reason you should be in here is to see M'Benga for your sessions."

McCoy scowled.

"Oh, don't give me that!" she scolded. "You and I both know we can't honestly declare you fit for duty right now." Her tone and expression softened. McCoy looked at her, face open.

"Anything, Leonard?" she asked in a whisper.

Again, there was that flicker of something in his eyes. They saw it whenever questions were asked or the topic strayed to his time. McCoy shook his head vigorously, clamping his mouth shut. It was as if talking was dangerous.

"Alright," she sighed. She gave a small smile. "Take care, Leonard."

McCoy nodded and smiled.

"And I'd better not catch you back in here working!" she yelled after him.

* * *

"How's the counseling going?" Kirk asked.

M'Benga sighed from across the table, and set down his mug. "Honestly? There's not much we can _do_. I have established the areas that he especially doesn't want to talk about. Questions, which we already knew, his interrogation, though oddly that sort of reaction is following the normal parameters, and, interestingly enough, his starship knowledge."

Kirk looked up. "But he's on a starship. Why does he become guarded about that?"

M'Benga was silent for a while. "Captain, have you noticed how, aside from not speaking, Leonard is behaving normally?"

Kirk looked over the change of subject, sensing that this was leading to something else. "I have," he replied. "It's almost like old times. He and Spock still somehow manage to bicker." Truthfully, Kirk was completely baffled by that. It was as if they communicated on an entirely different wavelength from the rest, one that only they perfectly understood. "What about it?"

"I'm concerned," the doctor admitted. "Normally, after such an experience, you have phases. They can include denial, shock, psychological and emotional mood swings, and a variety of other coping methods. Leonard's had none of those, and I think I know why."

Kirk waited. "Why?"

M'Benga licked his lips. "I believe they're all tied to speaking. Once he says something, then the emotional upheaval will hit and he can process the event normally. Speaking is the final step."

"But he's not talking," Kirk pointed out. "He outright refuses to-"

"Captain, if you were held prisoner in a Romulan brig for weeks, months on end, what would you be going through? Psychologically?" M'Benga interjected. "You're restrained by various means, physically tortured, deprived of food and sleep, and this enemy is constantly demanding answers from you, 24/7. What is the maximum speed of a starship? What codes do you know? What are the next orders for your ship? Anytime you don't answer, you have to pay for it in blood. They've made you scream. They've probably made you cry. You're exhausted, in terrible pain, cramping from hunger, emotionally worn down, little to no hope of rescue, and any other man would've long broken before you. But one thing keeps you going," here M'Benga leaned forward.

"The fact that you have not given them what they want. They can torture you all they like, but as long as you keep your mouth shut, you are not answering any of their questions. You have not given in. And because you haven't cracked, because you haven't talked, you know your friends are safe."

Kirk could feel tingles crawling up his skin as the doctor spoke. M'Benga didn't mince words. And with Bones as protective-oriented as he was? That was entirely possible.

He swallowed hard. "If true- and I think that you've hit the nail on the head- then it would definitely explain why he's wary around questions and the subject of starship life."

Geoff nodded. "He's resisted answering for two months. That's going to take a while to undo."

"But he'll have to start talking again eventually," Kirk pointed out. "Especially to get reinstated as CMO."

"I know," Geoff sighed. "Kirk, once he talks I honestly believe he'll go through normal post-trauma responses. That's a step towards recovery. The problem is, when that emotional upheaval hits, I would like it to be a positive one. A, a completion, if you will. Don't force him. That will just make things worse."

Kirk nodded. "He seems fine now…" he trailed.

"He does," the doctor conceded. "But it's very superficial. Part of it might be denial, but I don't think so. Leonard's method is to just push past an event and ignore that it ever happened, to not discuss it. I know for a fact that he has nightmares."

Kirk's head shot up. "He does?" he asked, alarmed. "What can we-"

M'Benga was already staying him. "Easy, those are to be expected. Leonard knows that, as well. He's opted to just push through and deal with them, and to not take any sleep aids."

"And your recommendation?" Kirk prodded.

Geoff leaned back, mulling it over. "For now, I agree with him. He's still sleeping hard and catching up on what he lost, so he normally sleeps right through them and rarely remembers them the next morning. As long as it doesn't seem to be a problem, we're sticking with his plan."

"Good," Kirk said approvingly. "I'm glad you managed to work that out." He rubbed a hand across his face. "It's tough to communicate with him… I keep accidentally asking questions, even if it's something as innocent as 'how are you doing?'. Not exactly helpful," he confessed.

M'Benga gave a wan smile. "I have the same issue. I'm working with Uhura to linguistically phrase questions as statements that Leonard can either confirm or deny. It's been wonders of help in the counseling sessions."

Kirk smiled. "I'll have to talk with her, then."

The doctor agreed and returned to his mug.

* * *

Uhura, meanwhile, was dutifully monitoring the communications board. Her console blipped and she activated it, noticing that it was from Starfleet command.

"_Starbase 8 contacting _Enterprise_, Authorization 462, Protocol 47, Eval Regulatory transcript. On the condition of Lieutenant-Commander Leonard H. McCoy, M.D., we are sending a standard records personnel team to collect the report of his experience on a Romulan ship. Pick-up for said team will occur two Stardates from receival of this message. Compliance is expected. Any further/other reports on the condition and story of Leonard H. McCoy must be reported to Starbase 8, Admiral Kesselberg. _

_Acknowledge._"

Uhura furrowed her brow, foreboding and unease seeping through her features. Starfleet wasn't supposed to know about McCoy yet. The Captain gave orders to keep it a secret, until they figured out what happened and healed him.

Someone talked.

"Mr. Spock," Uhura called. The Vulcan in the big chair turned slightly. "Yes, lieutenant?"

"I've received a…" she licked her lips. "A _disconcerting_ message from Starfleet."

Spock picked up on her tone. He got up and walked across the bridge. Uhura handed him the earpiece and played the message again. Spock's face grew tighter and his eyebrows drew together. She sat, anticipating, for whatever he may order.

"Acknowledge," Spock stated.

Uhura keyed in the frequency. "Acknowledged, Starbase 8."

She looked back up and saw Spock accessing intraship, keying down to Sickbay.

"Captain?" he said. "We have a problem."

* * *

**_Romulan Bird-of-Prey_**

Oh, God it hurt.

He coughed, still trying to catch his breath, to suck in the sweet, sweet air, no matter how foul-smelling. His throat hurt, well, he hurt all over, but that was the most recent source of pain.

He'd expected the Romulan interrogation to proceed like any human one. First ask him to play along nicely and things will go easier, if he doesn't cooperate then things will get worse, yada yada yada, the torture gradually building the longer he resisted.

Boy, was he wrong.

The moment they led him into the cell Jencius was on him. He was flung down on the floor and raising his arms, trying to stave off the beating, knowing he would fail no matter what he did.

Dimly, he was surprised (and thankful) that the Romulan didn't break his arms with the blows. They were so fragile compared to the Vulcanoid. He curled up in ball, trying to protect what he could but still got kicked and punched with crushing strength. Jesus, his ribs hurt, he might have a hairline fracture in a couple.

He didn't know the purpose behind all this. Did they automatically think he was useless? What could a Federation doctor know? But if that was the case, why keep him alive?

He didn't know, until Jencius lifted him off the floor and started choking him against the wall. The hand closed around his windpipe, cutting off his airflow and he started grappling at it.

"You're a doctor," Jencius finally spoke. His voice was low and rumbling. "How does it feel to have someone's life in your hands?"

McCoy gasped and clawed desperately. Jencius leaned into his face.

"I know what it feels like."

He released McCoy on the verge of falling unconscious and he hit the unforgiving floor hard, coughing, choking, and gasping.

"Do not forget this, Doctor," Jencius stated, pacing around him. "I am in charge of you. I can easily take your life anytime I wish. Your well-being is solely in my hands."

Even bruised and battered, McCoy forced a laugh. "Until your captain intervenes," he said.

Jencius's face shifted- and golly, it was weird watching a Vulcanoid face dance that emotionally- but then McCoy couldn't see anything but stars as a boot collided with the side of his face. He coughed and felt a small trickle of blood near his temple.

"Do not disillusion yourself, Doctor," Jencius said coldly. "Very soon, I will be a captain. As for you?" He leaned down to the human and grinned.

"Let's begin with your game of 20 Questions, shall we?"


	6. The Interrogation

**A/N: Thank you so much for those reviews! They're fantastic! I should apologize for the late update, I've been busy, exhausted, and ah, I've had a recent obsession with Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles (what a childhood :) ). But, to make up for it, here is a longer chapter for you! I start school tomorrow, so I don't know yet how that plus work will effect my updates, but I shall try to write/post when I can. Thank you for the support, guys!**

* * *

Kirk stormed darkly through the corridors, all intent and anger. Crewmen scattered as he swept past, left with the odd impression that menacing music ought to be playing around him.

The captain wound through the ship and entered the transporter room. Instantly the air thickened with tension. M'Benga was already there, his face grave. Spock himself stood at the transporter console, finding it 'logical' to keep the room private should there be any… disagreements.

Now was the time to pick up that Starfleet records team. Kirk had gone through every complaint, lobbied every counterargument and made every warning not to. But the go-ahead was still given. The personnel were arriving.

Kirk grit his teeth as the forms materialized. He did _not_ want those goons pestering Bones. The figures coalesced into two men: one on the beefy side, but in a well-trained-by-a-gym sort of way, and the other older, more studious.

"Captain Kirk," the older man said. "I am Gerard Grather," he pronounced with a long A. "And this is my coworker, Brad Pulmnar." The well-muscled man inclined his head.

Kirk studied them. Pulmnar had dark hair in a close cut to his head, a tight shirt and snug pants. He looked like he would be right at home in a gym or on the battlefield. The briefcase in his left hand seemed rather incongruous with his imposing image, but that, too, was offset by his relaxed, open face. Though not smiling, he conveyed friendliness and preparation.

Grather's countenance declared professionalism in a modest way. His suit was colorless, to match his hair, and he looked over his nose at the men in the room, ready to see what his job would entail. He, too, carried a briefcase, but it seemed to blend in with his nature.

"Grather. Pulmnar." Kirk didn't even bother to say 'welcome'… he knew that the observant men would instantly pick up on the lie. "The logs and communications show that you are here against my protests; I suggest you keep this in mind during your discussion."

Grather inclined his head gravely. "Understood, Captain. We were duly informed of the hassle to get here. However, I'm sure you can also understand our presence when added to the fact that you did not even inform Starfleet of McCoy's return for a week and a half."

That man had a way with words. Were Kirk a linguist like Uhura he would probably marvel at the subtleties lacing his sentences to implant suggestions and change the subject around. He still didn't like it. And, he had a point: Starfleet was not pleased about being kept in the dark. Aside from McCoy's imprisonment already being a sensitive matter due the Romulans involved, they pressed even harder after hearing (belatedly) of his sudden return.

_That_ had been one heck of a headache to sort out. The moment Spock informed them of the leak, Kirk and M'Benga were tearing apart the logs and records, looking for how/who had tipped off Starfleet, accidentally or not.

They found the answer buried in a standard medical report. Crew updates were sent out with the normal, official reports and notices to Starfleet automatically. M'Benga had simply filled in McCoy's information _after_ the reports were sent out, so that it was still logged, but kept away from Starfleet. But one night he had turned in early, and Nurse Radner had completed the routine reports like usual. It had been just one sentence, really. _McCoy's condition continues to improve as he readjusts to starship life._ But it had been enough.

The poor nurse had cried once she found out the consequences of not omitting. Kirk didn't spare any time for her, and let Chapel work things out. He instead focused on trying to correct the mistake and letting Bones know of the possible upcoming… questions.

And he'd just nodded silently, taking it in.

Grather finally stepped off the platform, Pulmnar following. "We will require one of your briefing rooms, Captain, for privacy's sake. I'm sure you understand."

"Yes," Kirk said crisply. "When you're set up I will summon Dr. McCoy."

M'Benga stepped forward. "I am McCoy's overseeing physician," he introduced himself. "I _will_ be present during your session, gentlemen. If you've read what medical reports I've sent your offices, I'm sure you understand why."

Inwardly, Kirk grinned, full of shark teeth. So M'Benga could be just as fancy and poignant with words as Grather, eh? Fantastic. Kirk felt himself relax marginally- if the doctor was in there with Bones, things should be (for the most part) fine.

He hoped.

* * *

M'Benga, Grather, and Pulmnar waited in the briefing room. The doctor still eyed the two men. Pulmnar seemed alright, but Grather was still a tad too cold for his taste. Too impersonal.

A recorder had been set up on the table. Pulmnar fiddled with it, ready to transmit testimony onto a PADD instantaneously.

The doors swooshed open and McCoy walked in cautiously. He looked at the three of them, slowly drawing to a halt.

Pulmnar smiled broadly. "Hello, Leonard," he greeted warmly. He indicated a chair. "Please, sit down and we can get started."

McCoy licked his lips hesitantly but slowly moved to the chair. The four sat down, M'Benga and McCoy on one side of the table, and Grather and Pulmnar on the other.

"Doctor," Pulmnar continued amiably after introducing themselves. "We are part of Starfleet records. Our job is to collect testimonies and facts from various delicate areas, especially those sensitive to the security of the Federation. Naturally, I'm sure you can see why we are interested in hearing about your time with Romulans."

McCoy nodded, watchful.

Pulmnar went on. "We understand your reluctance to answer questions. We also understand that you are not partial to talking right now. So," here he took a PADD out of briefcase and set it and the stylus before the doctor. "Whenever you are ready, you may write down your story."

McCoy just looked at the PADD, unmoving.

As the long minutes ticked by with no sign of cooperation from McCoy, M'Benga could see the hope for a simple encounter fade from the team's faces. He resisted the urge to smirk.

"Perhaps, beginning with the whole story is a little much right now," Pulmnar said hesitantly.

"Why don't we break things down into parts, Doctor?" Grather stepped in smoothly. "It may make things a little easier. You don't have to tell us everything. But, we are intrigued as to how you ended up, say, getting healed during you imprisonment."

The PADD sat heavily on the table, under McCoy's wary gaze. M'Benga kept a close eye on him, watching in case anything went too far. The other men sat patiently.

Shockingly, McCoy's hand slowly lifted up, carefully picking up the stylus. It stayed there, frozen, hovering over the PADD. Nobody moved, waiting breathless for whatever McCoy may do.

The hand was shaking slightly. Hardly noticeable, except to another surgeon. M'Benga caught the fine tremor running through it. He narrowed his eyes as his conscience warred. On the one hand, he didn't want McCoy to feel pressured into doing something he didn't want to do. On the other, if McCoy actually _willingly_ wrote down even just an _aspect_ of his past situation, it would be a step closer to recovery. And M'Benga had a duty to make sure his patients recovered. But he also had a duty to make sure they didn't suffer.

McCoy's hand suddenly clenched into a fist around the stylus. In the next moment, he flung it viciously across the room. Both men leapt to their feet in surprise and M'Benga made up his mind.

"That's enough," he growled. "Gentlemen, we've already informed you of how precarious this line of thought is. You were _discouraged_ from it."

"Doctor," Grather replied crisply. "Stand down. You should also know how imperative it is we figure out what happened. For the security of our borders. What if he had talked over there?"

They both looked at McCoy, who was sitting on his hands and leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed, looking slightly grey.

"Now you know he did no such thing," M'Benga rumbled.

"Actually, we _don't_ know," Grather countered. "He's not said a word about it to anyone, including you."

M'Benga fumed. "And there's a psychological reason for that!"

Grather cocked an eyebrow. "Really? And what is it?"

Inwardly, M'Benga cursed. He hadn't pinpointed the root cause of it. All he had were speculations, mind you, very good and spot on speculations, but he still had little to no proof to back it up.

And Grather knew it.

"Doctor, you are dismissed," Grather addressed him, turning away.

M'Benga started. What? "You can't override medical authority," he stated. "As CMO of this ship I-"

"Ah, but you _aren't_ the Chief Medical Officer of this ship," Grather said knowingly. He turned back towards Geoff with a hint of smugness in his eyes. "Your position was temporary, until, I believe the exact words were '_until Leonard McCoy is recovered_'."

"And clearly he has not recovered yet!" M'Benga raged in a quiet explosion. "You can see that plain as day!"

"But he has been recovered from the Romulans." That gleam was stronger in Grather's eyes. "He is back aboard the _Enterprise_. If your promotion ended at his _medical_ recovery it should have stated so. You are no longer CMO. Dr. McCoy is."

M'Benga hated Grather's cool play on words. Relieved and dismissed due to technicalities? That was low and underhanded.

Grather observed him impassively. "So again, Doctor, you are dismissed. You do not have the _proper_ authority to stay and argue. Leave, before we have to make you leave."

M'Benga was stunned. This was actually happening. He looked down at McCoy, who had opened his eyes wide. Mixing emotions crossed his face, alternating between anger, fear, suspicion, and several others.

Pulmnar and Grather were waiting. They weren't backing down from this. Heck, they probably even had official paperwork that allowed them to decide who could be in a session with them (the only loophole being a high medical authority).

Slowly, M'Benga stepped back. So, he lost this battle. But by gum, he was coming back with reinforcements. Before leaving, he whispered into McCoy's ear.

"I'm getting Captain Kirk."

The doctor exited.

"Now, without any meddling in the way," Pulmnar continued, as if that entire exchange hadn't happened. He placed the stylus in front of McCoy again. "Is there anything you would like to say?"

Immediately, McCoy started to shake his head, a gut reaction now to questions, but paused. Face lighting up, he grabbed the PADD and stylus and started scribbling away. The men relaxed, glancing at each other to see identical expressions of relief that they were finally getting somewhere.

Until, that is, McCoy presented the PADD to them. And instead of a testimony, the device held a brilliant, anatomically correct picture of Grather and Pulmnar shoving their orders up their behinds.

McCoy chuckled at those priceless, twisting faces.

But those men were not happy.

* * *

"I just want to know why, Felix."

On the screen, Admiral Kesselberg sighed. "_Look, Jim, this was out of my hands. The moment Starfleet found out that you'd been hiding McCoy's return, well, it was an uproar. Plus the fact that you entered the Neutral Zone and Romulan space without clearance… you're lucky you're not dealing with _that_ fallout…_"

Kirk had wondered about that. Normally such a blatant violation would strip him of his rank. "Why is that?"

The Admiral wasn't quite looking at him. "_Because it wasn't entirely without permission_," he said softly.

This was just confusing. Kirk didn't remember consulting anyone, other than Spock. "Don't skip around the subject, Felix, what do you mean?"

"_Jim, did you ever wonder why you were immediately assigned to patrol?_" Kesselberg asked him. "_Knowing you and record, the smart thing would have been to send your ship to the next quadrant. But I knew how this felt to you. I knew what it would do. I was the one who gave you the orders to patrol the Neutral Zone. It was so that on the off-chance you found McCoy…_" he trailed off.

Kirk sat there, realization dawning on him. "You're taking all the heat about crossing borders," he said.

Kesselberg nodded wearily. "_I don't regret my decision, though. You _did_ get your man back. I just wish you had informed us immediately instead of hiding him for almost two weeks._"

Kirk looked away grimly. "I have to thank you for the opportunity you gave us to save Bones," he murmured.

Kesselberg shook his head. "_Don't. It's landed the records team on you, hasn't it? That's-_"

"Captain!" Dr. M'Benga burst into his quarters.

"I have to go," Kirk said quickly, cutting the channel. He whirled to face the erratic doctor. "What is it? Where's Bones?"

"He's still in with the records personnel," M'Benga said quickly, breathing hard. He looked like he had sprinted all the way here.

"Well, why aren't _you_ there?!" Kirk demanded instantly.

"They removed me. Through various technicalities they said I wasn't CMO and therefore didn't have the authority to stay and intervene, medical or not. I came immediately to you, Captain, we have to put a stop to this!"

Kirk's brain buzzed as his words sank in. He cursed. Blasted personnel had their orders from admirals. An idea struck him and he paged Spock. "I need you in my quarters, now."

"_Acknowledged_."

It didn't take long for Spock to arrive. He observed the flustered, angry doctor and the taut captain. "You requested me, Captain?" he said.

"Yes." He looked at M'Benga. "Doctor, I promote you to CMO of the starship _Enterprise_. Mr. Spock, you are a witness to this."

M'Benga jumped in surprise. "What? No, Captain, what-?"

"You can resign when Bones is back up to par," Kirk snapped, interjecting. "But since you are now established as this ship's Chief Medical Officer, with a command-grade witness, now those goons in with Bones can't kick you out!"

M'Benga caught on instantly. Spock inferred the situation as well. He did not approve of using deceptive, technical means of removing authority, however unwanted.

"Gentlemen," Spock said calmly. "If what I suspect is true, then should we not get back to Dr. McCoy?"

The humans both looked at him. Barely a second passed before all three men were out the door, running for the briefing room.

* * *

Kirk would've slammed the door open if he could. Heck, he would've kicked and broken down the door if it was possible. But instead of any of that the doors slid open for them and he charged first into the room.

"Alright, Grather, that's enough!" he shouted, M'Benga and Spock on his heels.

Grather was standing near McCoy. Pulmnar was still across the table, unease screaming across his features. And McCoy…

McCoy was still in his chair, but with his knees drawn up, eyes squeezed shut and fists gripping the fabric of his trousers. Overall, he looked like a man desperately trying to hold something together.

Grather looked up, startled at the men pouring into the private briefing. "What is the meaning of this?" he demanded.

"Sir," M'Benga said dangerously. "As Chief Medical Officer of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_ I am ending this session. My patient has reacted extremely negatively to your ministrations and I'm pulling him out. The captain can show you the way to the transporter room."

Grather looked incredulous. "You can't honestly be-"

"Dr. Geoffrey M'Benga _is_ the current CMO," Spock stated, stepping forward. He seemed to loom over Grather. "I witnessed his promotion. It is not only illogical, but also gravely insubordinate to perform against an overriding medical authority." He paused, and then added, "strict disciplinary action will certainly be taken, in this case, should you not comply."

Inwardly, Kirk cheered. Given the right motivation, Spock's cool monotone could sound chillingly threatening.

Grather eyed the three of them. "Very well," he muttered. "Pulmnar, let's pack our things."

"I'm already packed," Pulmnar answered dryly.

Grather glared at him and went to collect his briefcase. Kirk walked over towards Bones, pausing to look at a discarded PADD on the table. He couldn't help but grin at the picture on it. Good ol' Bones.

"Mr. Spock, see to it that they make it to the transporter room and then back on Starbase 8," Kirk ordered.

Spock nodded. "Yes, Captain." He turned to the two men, setting his icy gaze on them. "This way."

The three left, leaving Kirk and M'Benga with McCoy. Kirk looked up at the new CMO, who was frowning as he continued to scan McCoy.

"What is it?" he pressed.

M'Benga snapped the tricorder shut. "Too many questions, probably," he muttered darkly. He looked up and met the captain's hazel gaze. "It's a bad setback. Fools got him worked up into a mild relapse. Help me get him to Sickbay, Captain, I've got some work to do."

* * *

**_Romulan Bird-of-Prey_**

The swirling in his mind made it tough to think.

He felt numb and detached- until something brought new pain forth, erupting from his body.

Voices. Nothing. One voice. Was that sound him? He was tired.

_…__starship…Kirk…procedures…overrides…codes_

"What is it?!" someone screamed and then pain erupted everywhere, an intense burning, electrifying, thrumming sensation…

He woke up in an entirely different place. On his back. Cushioned bed. Something wasn't right. Something was off. Struggling to raise his head. Looking down at his organs. Should he be seeing those? He didn't understand.

Grey eyes. Pointed ears. Retril gently pushed his head back down. "Back to sleep, Doctor," he whispered, but he was already drifting away…

The cycle continued endlessly. Jencius. Pain. Retril. Floating. Back in his cell. He'd laugh if he could, though he didn't know why. Maybe he just thought he'd laugh, maybe he'd actually sob instead.

_You have to resist. You can't give him what he wants._

_You can't hold on much longer._

_You have to._

There was a change in the cycle. He knew because his aching head became clearer, and he could move somewhat, crawling around in his cell. Jencius entered again, and he scooted away fearfully, into a corner, but the Romulan didn't move for him, just stood there smiling.

"Thought you were a superman?" he taunted. "Thought you were holding out on me so well?" He crouched down, at eye level with the human.

"Let me tell you what I know from what mumbles and retorts you've made. Remember that nothing is insignificant. 'As complicated as chess with Spock'? That's a Vulcan name, and he's assigned to your ship. Chess? He must be quite a strategist, then. 'Scotty will get her repaired'? That sounds like an engineer to me, probably the Chief. 'Eat your vegetables, Jim'? Well, the captain has some unhealthy habits, has he? That's interesting to know."

No. This couldn't be happening, he hadn't… No. No, no, no, no, no, no…

He should have kept his mouth closed.


	7. The Game

**A/N: I have this up sooner than normal! By urgent requests, I've quickly written the next chapter (hope no one was left in dire straits for too long). Good-bye to the old format, hello to the new story twists! Thank you so much for those wonderful reviews, too! I hope you enjoy this chapter just as much! Thanks, guys!**

* * *

He should have kept his mouth closed.

Wearily, McCoy raised his head and looked at Jencius. "Fine, then," he rasped. "I won't say another word."

Jencius smirked. "Really, Doctor? I know how vocal and outspoken you are. You won't last that way, you pathetic human."

McCoy didn't answer him.

"So determined to maintain complete silence, now?" Jencius continued. "I should tell you it's pointless, you still find ways to tell me what I want to know."

Still nothing.

Jencius realized something. A change came over his features as he took on the air of a man presented with an interesting new challenge.

"Very well. Let's see if you can talk at all, now. I shall enjoy this."

The interrogations took on a new feel. It was no longer poignant questioning, but more mindless torture to make him speak. He screamed, of course. Nonsensical, primal, incoherent. No words. Just voice. He screamed because it hurt so much.

_Come on, Bones, hold it together, we're here, we've got you._

Jencius tried more tactics. He ended up recovering in Retril's Sickbay more often now. He felt feverish most of the time and idly wondered if he had caught something foreign while in his cell. Maybe that would kill him.

_Hang on, Leonard._

He didn't know how long it was. But Retril whispered to him as he lay on the bed, struggling to stay conscious.

"I don't know how much longer you'll be here," the doctor whispered. "Jencius' promotion came through."

He didn't have time to think about what that would mean for him before blackness enclosed his mind.

Some days (weeks?) later he noticed another change. There weren't as many visits to his cell. Jencius hardly stopped by. Left alone, McCoy grew a little stronger, able enough to shakily stand up and shuffle forward. His head was clearing, and he still felt weak from neglect, but it was better than he had been.

At some point his cell door opened to reveal two guards. Jencius wasn't one of them. One held up a rectangular pair of manacles and McCoy slowly presented his wrists. They were locked into place and the guards each grasped his arms and walked him out of the brig.

He couldn't remember the last time he had been down the halls of the Bird-of-Prey. Most of the time he went to Sickbay he was unconscious and dying. With a shock he realized he hadn't been this way since that fateful day of battle.

He was led to the transporter room. The guards halted and he swayed, barely holding himself up. There was a fairly large procession in the transporter room. McCoy recognized the captain, Jencius, and some other Romulans. All seemed to be in their official dress uniforms.

Jencius stepped forward, grinning. "Hello, Doctor. Enjoying the change in scenery?"

McCoy felt a quip on his tongue but remembered he wasn't going to answer. He stayed silent, and focused on holding the contents of his stomach down.

"It may interest you to know," Jencius continued. "That I now have my own captaincy. We're transferring to my ship now. And you're coming with me."

McCoy felt his heart sink. He'd held on to the hope that Jim would be able to track down this Bird-of-Prey, but now, on a completely different ship? It would be next to impossible.

_It's okay, Bones, we're here, we've got you._

He was position on the transporter pad next to Jencius for the beaming. The ship vanished, replaced with a slightly different transporter room. McCoy suspected they were on a warbird.

Some Romulans led him down to the brig. They stopped before one cell which had a door fitted to it. Inside, it was pitch black. They threw him in, not bothering to remove the manacles. Staggering up, he was left in darkness as the door closed. He tried not to whimper from anxiety.

_It's alright, you're safe, Leonard._

No he wasn't. He was in a brig! He was going God knows where with a diabolically evil Romulan captain. Jencius kept showing up, kept trying different ways to get him to say something, anything! Even a word as insignificant as 'at'. Because they both knew that would be the ball game.

He didn't know how he even lasted this long. Jencius kept toying with him, trying to coax out his voice through something other than screams. Physical torture was replaced with mental. He would be left in the dark for days on end, all sense of time lost. The captain then decided to try a longer method to break him. His food started getting cut and showed up less frequently. The chained him so he was standing up and couldn't go to sleep, because that blasted device kept beeping and awaking him.

Sleep deprivation took its toll. He went through intense emotional stages, sometimes screaming at the walls, sometimes giggling, and sometimes just crying wretched sobs. When they passed he felt drained and listless, reacting to nothing. Occasionally he hallucinated. Jim and Spock and Joanna would morph from the darkness, standing before him, and he would want to call out to them, begging.

But he couldn't, oh, he couldn't. Because the last thing he had was his silence. It seemed all of his sanity, all of his motivation, his hope, and his being depended on that silence. The moment he said something, it would all be over. Jencius would win. He couldn't let Jencius win. _He_ had to win this, he had to beat his opponent in the only way he could. He clung to that thought day and night, his nerves and muscles screaming, and at times it seemed that terrible burden of silence made him physically ache.

_Doctor, come back to us._

Warmth. The door was blasted open and there was light, growing brighter and brighter until…

McCoy opened his eyes with a gasp, panting hard as he looked wildly around Sickbay. He thrashed in confusion. M'Benga was holding his arms, talking to him. Spock was close to his face, but backing away. Jim was there, too, calling his name. Jim, are you okay? What's going on? What's happening?

None of this was said. The closest thing to those words were the small noises coming out of his mouth. He was terribly confused. But M'Benga's voice was soothing and low, and Spock and Jim were also reassuring him that things were okay, that he was safe, and he finally started to relax.

"Welcome back, Leonard," Geoff breathed in relief, kindness etching his features. "It's good to see you again."

Again? Where had he gone? He was terribly disoriented and tired, but tried to sit up anyways. The doctor let him, and he looked questioningly at Jim and Spock.

"M'Benga said you suffered a relapse," Jim explained. "You weren't snapping out of it, so Spock briefly touched your mind."

He nodded, rubbing his arms. He could still feel his heart beating furiously, though it was calming down.

"I think you should sleep, Leonard," M'Benga said calmly. "A little rest does the body and soul wonders."

Sleep? Did he want to sleep? Maybe; his eyelids were already drooping. He leaned back against the biobed and floated away.

* * *

M'Benga sighed as McCoy relaxed and went to sleep. "Well, we're out of it now," he said wearily. He looked up. "Thank you, Spock."

Spock inclined his head. "You're welcome, Doctor."

M'Benga tapped his fingers, chewing his lip anxiously. "Spock, I know how private mind melds are, but I have to ask… what did you see?"

Spock was quiet for a long moment, processing it. Kirk and M'Benga waited patiently. When he did speak, it wasn't what either of them were exactly expecting.

"His silence is the last thing he has."

"What do you mean by that, Spock?" Kirk asked.

Spock tilted his head. "My apologies. Perhaps I should phrase it differently. His silence _was_ the last thing he had going for him, and in his mind now, still is. I got the impression that his time with the Romulans wasn't always interrogation. It… _morphed_, somehow, into a competition. A competition between whether they could get him to speak or if he could still hold his tongue."

M'Benga closed his eyes. "He still feels like that's going on… no wonder he's refusing so vehemently."

Kirk exhaled heavily. "Well, at least we know _something_ now. That's good." His eyes lingered on Bones' sleeping form before pivoting to Spock.

"Did you beam those two goons back to Starbase 8?"

"Starbase 8 reported transporter difficulties," Spock replied. "They've dispatched a small shuttle to meet us."

"But Scotty's doing work in the bay," Kirk pointed out, alarmed. "They can't fit in a shuttle right now."

"I know, Captain. That's why we're beaming the men onto the shuttle once it is in range. That should occur in ten minutes."

Kirk didn't like it. He wanted Grather and Pulmnar off his ship immediately. But, if a wait was necessary, then it couldn't be helped.

"Very well. Doctor, if you have things under control here, then we will return to the bridge."

"Yes, Captain."

* * *

When McCoy awoke a few minutes later, everyone was gone. He sat up on the biobed, looking around. Well, if no one was here, then no one could tell him to stay put.

He hopped off and stretched, feeling tired but not sleepy. He could probably eat something. Idly, he wondered what the mess hall special was today.

There was a sound. His ears pricked up. He knew that sound. It was the whine of a transporter. McCoy whirled and saw two golden shapes coalesce into…

Oh, no.

For a second, his entire body was frozen, facing the Romulans. Then he snapped into action when they advanced. He snatched a scalpel from his wall of old medical tools and threw it at them. It nicked one across the arm but caught the other on the collarbone. The Romulan staggered, green blood staining his uniform.

McCoy kept backing away, ready to make use of a connecting door, when suddenly, Chapel walked in.

"Leonard we-" she spotted the Romulans and points had to be given to her for how fast she hit the comm. "Intruder alert, Romulans in Sickbay, Security, get here now!"

She and McCoy dove back through the door when disruptors started firing. The klaxon exploded to life, blaring a red alert throughout the ship. Uhura's voice filtered through the comms, calling everyone to battle stations, that a ship had been detected.

Chapel and McCoy ran to Sickbay's entrance, almost colliding with the Security team rushing in.

"In there," Chapel panted, pointing. "Two Romulans, armed."

"Got it," Giotto led the team back into the ward. Sounds of phaser fire commenced, including more disruptor shots.

"Leonard, where are you going?" Chapel cried, whirling to see McCoy hurrying out of Sickbay.

He faced her and she saw a strange look on his face, totally incongruous to his recent behavior. It was all intent, a firm, set hardness on his features, cold, yet his eyes blazing.

He was a man on a mission.

She nodded. "Okay, then. Go; we've got things here in Sickbay."

He gave one, curt nod, and swept out of Sickbay, heading determinedly for the bridge.


	8. The End

**A/N: Hey, guys. I want to thank everyone again for all of those awesome, awesome reviews. They mean so much to me. :) Posting this chapter got unexpectedly delayed (I kind of passed out on Saturday and was throwing up a lot for no immediately discernible reason). Going to the doctor's, though, so hopefully some answers will finally settle that and my head rushes. (sigh), where's McCoy when you need him?**

**There are references to 'Balance of Terror' in this chapter.**

**Anyway, this chapter may be titled 'the End', but there's still one more to go! Stay tuned after this, y'all! Reviews are always appreciated!**

* * *

Kirk wasn't happy, but he didn't have time to think about that. The situation erupted so fast they were almost caught completely off guard.

He and Spock had returned to the bridge after shaking McCoy back to the present. That had been frightening; Kirk had never associated trembling with the man before, but the doctor had been shaking like a leaf. When his and M'Benga's words still couldn't rouse him, Kirk had called Spock in for a mind meld. Barely a touch had done the trick. McCoy snapped out of it, frantic, disoriented, yes, but he was back with them.

And now there was a Romulan ship outside.

The moment Kirk sat down and Spock reported beaming Grather and Pulmnar to the shuttle, the red alert started blaring.

"Sensors detect a cloaking configuration," Spock said urgently. "Off the port nacelle."

"Pattern?" Kirk demanded instantly, though he already knew. Who else had cloaking devices? Who started all of this misadventure?

"Captain, two Romulans are reported in Sickbay!" Uhura shouted over the din. "Security is engaging them!"

"_In_ Sickbay? Spock, how did they get on?!"

"Most likely they beamed aboard when we beamed the records team onto their shuttle. Such a method would hide the boarding from our scans."

Kirk hit the side of his chair. "Clearly they're after someone. Shields up! Phasers!"

No one commented on the wording. They knew who was in Sickbay, too.

"Captain, there is still the matter of the shuttle," Spock mentioned.

Kirk cursed. "How close is it to the Starbase?"

"Not enough for the base's defenses to protect it."

"Fine. Alert Starbase 8 of the situation, if they don't already know. Extend shields to the shuttle, we'll take it under our wing and try to escort it to the base. Get us between it and the Romulan ship."

"Captain, it's decloaking."

Kirk swore again. The Romulans knew they knew. Then again, with their shields up and phasers suddenly powered on? It wasn't easy to hide.

"Uhura, contact them. I want to know why a warbird has dared to venture this far into Federation space, even flying next to a starbase."

"Aye, sir."

"Sulu, how's the shuttle?"

"It's within our shields under our port belly," the helmsman replied. "We're between it and the warbird."

"Good. Keep it that way, and start moving for the Starbase. Our priority is protecting the people on that shuttle."

"Aye sir," Sulu hesitated. "Should we beam them back?"

"No!" Kirk shook his head. "I don't want to give the Romulans another opportunity for a sneak-beaming."

"Understood."

"Captain, Security has apprehended the two trespassing Romulans," Uhura reported. "Damage only to various Sickbay equipment. No casualties."

Kirk breathed a sigh of relief. Good. One less thing to worry about. "Get them in the brig. I'll deal with them after this showdown."

"Warbird's shields and phasers are powered up," Spock reported. "Moving in front of us."

Kirk dragged a hand across his face. A confrontation? They weren't firing, or even acting overall violent. Of course, one could argue that the two Romulans _on his ship_ were proof enough of nefarious intentions.

"Full stop," he ordered. "Uhura, continue to hail them. Maybe we'll figure out what this is all about."

"Aye, sir!"

The turbolift doors opened and McCoy stepped onto the bridge. He looked out at the warbird on the viewscreen, maneuvering quietly beside Kirk's chair. Jim glanced at him. His face was set in stone but his eyes glittered.

Kirk gave a nod. "Good to see you back up here, Bones," he stated.

McCoy nodded, eyes flicking towards him before returning intently to the screen.

"Uhura, let me try to talk to them," Kirk said.

"Aye, sir, you're transmitting."

"Attention, Romulan warbird, this is Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. _Enterprise_ speaking. You are in violation of Federation space and we are prepared to take action against you should you warrant it; respond."

The bridge was silent (save for the Klaxon and buttons) as Uhura channeled the message through and waited for a reply.

"Visual coming in," she reported.

"On screen."

The view of the warbird with the starbase behind it (and boy, Kirk hoped he would never have to see such a thing again) shimmered and morphed to a Romulan bridge. In the front, a captain grinned.

"Hello, Kirk! I knew you were still captain, despite whatever that Vulcan said," he greeted gaily, a wicked grin showing a full mouth of teeth.

"Greetings, Captain Jencius," Kirk stated crisply. If this was the same ship, and the same captain that they had retrieved Bones from…

Kirk didn't want to think about those implications.

"Under the Border Treaty of-" he started but the Romulan held up a finger.

"Ah, ah, ah, Kirk, you might want to rethink that. Remember, _you_ violated _our_ borders first. Consider this an evening out of scores, a cancellation."

Kirk resisted the urge to huff. "Why are you here?" he threw out.

Jencius settled back in his chair. "You see, during your last _visit_," he drawled out. "Something was stolen from me. I was in the middle of something and I would like to finish." He leaned forward slightly. "I would like to have it back."

Kirk wasn't stupid. Jencius may have said 'something' and 'it', but he knew very well that Jencius was here for Bones.

"I'm afraid we can't do that," he answered, and he surprised himself at how polite he sounded. Inside, Kirk felt capable of eating rocks, he was so tense and angry. "And I should also let you know that we have your two men in custody. You may not answer for the border violation, but you _will_ be held accountable for crimes against a sentient being, and a member of Starfleet and the Federation."

"Kirk, this will go a lot easier for you and your ship if you hand over the doctor now. We will depart in peace, and you, your crew, and that shuttle you're trying to hide will be spared. If you think we cannot take down an entire starship, then I will remind you of our plasma cannon. I believe you've encountered it once before, if our intel is correct."

Kirk stiffened, rigid in his chair. Yes, they had seen that weapon before. A blossoming ball of fire, taking out outposts at the edge of the Federation. It nearly destroyed the _Enterprise_, and only warping out of range had saved them. Even then, that had been a close call. But here? At point-blank range with a shuttle to worry about? It wasn't a pretty picture.

Of course, they could also fire on the warbird. Full phasers and photon torpedoes at this range would destroy the ship, and any energy debris would be absorbed in the distant starbase's shields. It would depend on who fired first.

"We can easily destroy you as you can destroy us," Kirk replied loudly. "I wouldn't be too eager on that trigger button, Jencius."

The captain grinned again. "You think we've reached an impasse. I assure, that is not the case. I _will _get him back, Kirk. One way or another."

McCoy finally moved, stepping inside the transmitting view. Kirk watched him, making sure he was still alright. He found that he couldn't read the stony face.

Jencius brightened on screen, spotting the doctor. "Ah, hello there, Doctor! Happy to see me again?"

McCoy didn't answer, glaring at the screen. Sulu glanced over his shoulder and saw that McCoy's gaze was pure ice. He found he couldn't look anymore.

"We didn't finish what we started," Jencius continued. "I still have several methods I would like to try out… and see you try to resist. I am certain they will do the trick, but you have proven me wrong before. Shall we give it a go?"

Kirk was shocked at the sheer nerve of the man. With Jencius so focused on McCoy, Kirk motioned discreetly to Sulu. The helmsman gave no indication that he saw, other than moving his hand onto the phaser button. Good.

McCoy still hadn't answered, and the Romulan's face twisted. "I am ready to wipe out your crew, Doctor. Your friends." Jencius was on the edge of his seat. "But I will spare them if you willingly give yourself up. Then not even Kirk could stop us."

Not a bone in McCoy's body moved. Kirk hoped he could see that they were just as prepared to blast someone out of the sky.

"Not even an outrage at that, Doctor?" Jencius continued to taunt. "Not a protest? Can you still even _look_ at your friends?" he spat. He glared and waited.

The answer suddenly hit Kirk. This was why Jencius crossed borders so deep into Federation space. This is why he risked a serious confrontation between a starship and a _starbase_. Jencius was just as wrapped up in that 'game' as McCoy was. The man was banking everything on getting the doctor to crack, to speak, just as everything in McCoy was hanging on _not_ speaking.

Jencius was here in an all-or-nothing venture.

"This ends now, Jencius," Kirk stated, rising. "You can leave while you still have a chance."

"This isn't your battle, Kirk!" Jencius shouted at him. The fury was now shockingly apparent in the Romulan. "This isn't over! We haven't ended this until you talk, McCoy! It will _never_ end by a third party intervention!"

_He's mad_, Kirk realized. _His psychology has twisted around this challenge just as much as McCoy's. He won't stop unless you make him stop._

Kirk signaled for Sulu to bring the torpedoes online. With their finger on the button and firepower at their disposal, this would be a one-way fight. Kirk was ready to end it.

Only it wasn't Kirk who did. Jencius was still howling and raging on the screen, making threats and insisting that things weren't over. It clearly was, where he was trapped in Federation space, but he didn't know it. The 'game' wasn't finished until someone gave.

And in a pause between the Romulan's rants, two little words broke through the silence. They were rusty and brittle, stumbling over the bridge where they were picked up by Uhura's feed and carried across to the warbird. They rang tinny from disuse, from a tortured voice box that had been silent for months. But they hit the Romulan with a psyche-shattering force.

"I win," McCoy said.

When Kirk gave the order to fire, the last thing they saw was Jencius' surprised face before the screen was consumed in light.


	9. The Beginning

**A/N: Well, THANK YOU for the ride! Thanks to everyone who reviewed, followed, favorited, and even just read this! Your support was spectacular, and I hope it all delivered. I bring to you now the end of this story request.**

**As for other updates in my fanfiction world. My school starts tomorrow so I am unsure how often I will be able to update/post new stories. I have this one poem-sort-of-thing that I will probably type up and post because it's already written, but other than that I don't have any plans write now in the Star Trek category. They're limited to finishing Three Heroes (at some point; my enthusiasm for that story comes and goes and right now I'm waiting for it to come back) and co-writing a story with BballgalKaitlin. Otherwise, I do feel like a break is needed for a little bit of Star Trek fanfiction. I've been driving hard since Lent and for this whole year on ff net it's been a pusher. I would like to explore in other fandoms, too, namely Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and Hogan's Heroes. I hope to start with a gen story that's been on my mind before my schedule gets too crowded.**

**Well, folks. I ain't leaving, but I do need a break. Enjoy this, and until next time!**

* * *

Kirk walked off the bridge, feeling tired, but still alert. After destroying the warbird they had escorted the shuttle back to the starbase, and also delivered the two Romulans they had captive. Sorting out just what had happened had been a headache. The _Enterprise_ was still on yellow alert and so was the starbase in case any more cloaked vessels were floating around. So far, though, Spock hadn't found anything.

And now it was time to turn in. Kirk didn't head for his quarters, however. After speaking for the first time in ages, McCoy had left the bridge, sweeping quickly away. Now, Kirk was determined to find him.

The doctor wasn't in Sickbay, or the mess hall, despite it being his usual time to eat. Kirk approached the door to his quarters and rang the buzzer.

There was no response.

Undeterred, he overrode the lock and stepped inside. The room was dark, but there was a figure sitting on the bed. He approached him and sat down next to him. Bones stared blankly at the opposite wall.

"Bones?" he murmured after a moment.

McCoy didn't seem to hear him, and kept staring away at the wall. Jim sighed heavily as understanding washed over him. So M'Benga was right. Once he spoke, McCoy would face the emotional upheaval of such a trauma. Seemed like the fallout was hitting.

He was proved correct when McCoy suddenly started shaking. He didn't cry, whimper, or make a sound. He just shook all over, uncontrollably. Kirk wrapped his arms around him and didn't say anything, letting it pass. The shaking continued for a long while, coming and going in waves.

"Jesus Christ, Jim," McCoy broke, his voice cracking. "Did it all really happen?"

Jim didn't know exactly what 'it all' was. But he rubbed McCoy's shoulders, replying, "yes, Bones, it did. But it's over now," he added firmly.

McCoy nodded, sucking in a shaky breath. "Yes," he whispered, barely audible. "Yes it is."

* * *

McCoy's true recovery finally began in the days that followed. M'Benga progressed with the counseling sessions, gradually learning more and more about what happened with the Romulans. Due to excessive nagging and promises of good behavior, he was reinstated to light duty in Sickbay. The work actually cheered McCoy up, as he was finally able to do what he hadn't been able to do for more than two months. He spoke softly, still giving his voice box time to adjust to the workout. Refusing medication for it, he settled on copious amounts of hot honeyed tea. Everyone seemed very supportive of this- Kirk caught McCoy and Spock exchanging tea recipes.

Reports on his progress and story were still sent to Starfleet, who was glad to finally get the scoop on some more Romulan interrogation techniques. With rival powers, it was important to stay updated on the other's activities.

The whole crew was helpful, making small talk with McCoy in the mess hall, sneaking him rare treats of unsynthesized chocolate, and engaging him in rec room activities. Slowly, like drawing a shy flower out to the sunlight, the warm, friendly, sociable Bones returned. As his interactions with people increased, so did his assertiveness, until he was close back to being the old, outspoken Southerner.

But there was just one thing missing…

* * *

Kirk looked up as the door to his quarters opened. "Ah, Dr. M'Benga, how may I help you?"

M'Benga gave a soft smile. "You could sign something for me, sir."

"Oh?" Kirk raised both eyebrows.

"Yes." The doctor placed a PADD on the table. "As much as I appreciate your faith in me, sir, I feel that it would be better for me to wait and gain more starship experience before becoming a CMO." A twinkle in the eye accompanied the slight smile.

"I see," Kirk said, following along. "Well, it's dreadful to have you resign your position, Doctor," Kirk replied. "But if you feel it's for the best, then there's really nothing I can do about it."

"A shame," M'Benga agreed.

"Well, if you're getting reduced to AMO," Kirk continued, signing the PADD. "Then we'll need a new chief for Sickbay."

"Right away, too," Geoff added.

"Fortunately," Kirk said, a smile finally creeping onto his face. "I have someone in mind."

* * *

"I wish you'd stop grinning, Jim," McCoy commented suspiciously. "It's just a little signature."

"A little signature, but for a big job," Kirk said, and tried (and failed) once again to keep the grin off his face.

"But I've done it before. And don't get me wrong, I'm happy to get things back to normal and get back to work, but I can't shake the feeling that there's something else going on here."

"What?" Kirk asked innocently. "Nothing else is going on, like you said, Bones, you're just getting your job back. You signed the PADD already?"

"Yeah, ages ago," McCoy huffed, rolling his eyes. "You were dawdling for a while."

"Why not? There's no rush?" Kirk collected the PADD and discreetly glanced at the time. "Why don't we head down to Sickbay, Bones? Get you re-acclimated to the climate?"

"'No rush', eh?" McCoy smirked, but allowed Jim to swing an arm around his shoulders and walk them out of his quarters.

Just before they entered Sickbay, McCoy stopped and looked Jim in the eye. Jim looked back, waiting.

"There's a party in there, isn't there?"

"Party? What party?" Kirk blinked.

McCoy just lifted an eyebrow and kept staring at him.

"Yeah, there's a party," Kirk broke down quickly.

Instead of ranting, however, McCoy chuckled. "Don't feel bad about spoiling any surprises, Jim, I knew it was cake mix I smelled coming from the chemistry lab."

Kirk grinned. "Well, then, let's go eat some cake, shall we?"

They entered Sickbay and quickly enjoyed a rambunctious 'SURPRISE!' from everyone inside. His staff, plus the bridge crew, and yes, even Spock somehow found it logical to attend were all there, smiling and congratulating him.

"Aw, Jim," McCoy said, ducking his head. "Nobody holds a 'reinstated' party!"

"Maybe they will, now," Kirk replied jubilantly. "Maybe we started the next big thing. Maybe this is just the beginning. Soon enough there will be 'reinstated' parties going on within Starfleet Command and the Admiralty!"

"Suuure," McCoy drawled. "Well, I'm going to make the most of this and nab some of that cake."

"You do that, Bones," Kirk called. "Enjoy yourself!"

McCoy smiled, and, just before leaving: "Thanks, Jim."

Kirk smiled back. "Anytime."

* * *

The celebration continued, migrating to the mess hall at McCoy's request (he was nervous about all the people messing up the sensitive Sickbay equipment).

Despite being the center of attention, McCoy found a quiet corner in the mess hall and watched the festivities, eating his slice of cake.

"Curious," came a voice. "It was my understanding that typically the one for whom the celebration is for would be the one who is most involved in its activities."

"Good to see you too, Spock," McCoy greeted.

Spock inclined his head and stood next to the doctor. They watched the party silently, relaxed in comfort.

"It's just a lot to take in," McCoy admitted after a moment.

Spock raised an eyebrow.

"What you said earlier? About being the, the, center or whatever," McCoy snapped his fingers. "It's nice, but just a little much right now."

Spock nodded, surveying the shenanigans. "I, too, would feel slightly uncomfortable in such a position."

McCoy smiled. Then he shifted his feet, hesitantly reaching a hand up and rubbing the back of his neck. "Listen, Spock, I uh-"

Spock looked at him, waiting for him to continue.

McCoy hummed for a moment, tilting his head. "See, I'm… I feel grateful for your… impassiveness. No, that's not right. It's… see, the whole time I was… you were the only one who didn't try to _push_ anything outta me, ya know? You just took it in stride, like nothing was different, and I just wanna say that… well, it worked, but, that's not it, it's that, ah, y'see-"

"Doctor," Spock broke in. "Admitting that there was change is the first step to making it real. Should we behave any differently?"

"No!" McCoy said quickly. "But, I felt like I needed to, to say, to _express_ some form of appreciation…"

"Ah," Spock replied. "Then it is fortunate that Vulcans do not require such things."

A relieved grin broke out on McCoy's face. They looked at each other for a moment, finding that always-unspoken camaraderie, and that same understanding.

"Do you want some cake?" McCoy asked, sounding completely off-topic. "I think it's vanilla, but it's got enough of a lemon hint that I'm not 100% sure."

"Perhaps I will be able to determine the type of mix used," Spock replied smoothly.

The two moved off to the cake table, chatting idly. McCoy rambled on about the time his cousins tried to bake a cake and somehow managed to blow a hole in the sink, while Spock listened on serenely.

Kirk observed this from elsewhere in the room, a smile flickering across his features. All was right with the world.


End file.
